Monster’s Boots, Terrier Draw Ironic Laughs in London: Review

"Composition with Yellow, Blue and Red" (1937-42) by Piet Mondrian. The painting is included in "Migrations: Journeys Into British Art" at Tate Britain in London through Aug. 12. Source: Tate via Bloomberg

Feb. 6 (Bloomberg) -- Have you heard the one about the
artist who filled a gallery with avant-garde jokes?

That might not sound like a laugh-getter. Yet David
Shrigley’s exhibition, “Brain Activity,” at the Hayward
Gallery in London (through May 13), though not roll-in-the-aisles hilarious, is amusing in a black kind of way. How
seriously it should be taken is another question.

Shrigley uses various media, including drawings, animated
film, objects and words. “Unfinished Letter” (2003) consists
of a sheet of steel, painted to resemble a large crumpled sheet
of paper. On it are written the words, “Dear Father, I am in
jail and shortly to be hanged. I have been justly accused of….”

The missive ends with a blot, but gets its edge from that
word “justly.” A cute Jack Russell terrier, alert and friendly
like the canine star of the hit silent movie, “The Artist”
holds up a sign reading, “I’m Dead” (2010).

Some of his stuff is close to Surrealism, a genre that
would seem funnier if it weren’t so weird. “Boots” (2010)
consists of just that: footwear. The only thing is that each
boot is too big for any human foot, and they are arranged in
pairs intended for limbs ending in a single claw-like toe.

In going for gags like this, Shrigley, 43, isn’t making
such a big break with artistic history as you may imagine.

Many celebrated painters produced work that was
intentionally comic -- Hogarth comes to mind.

On the other hand, cartoon drawings by Saul Steinberg or
Ronald Searle, intended for magazines, are only a short step
away from the kind of art that’s found in museums.

Shrigley’s work falls somewhere between the two. It’s not
quite droll enough for Private Eye or the New Yorker, and is
less solemn than most modern art. The danger is that he ends up
being neither one nor the other: not very entertaining and not
weighty in artistic terms. At times, he tumbles through that
gap. At its best, though, his work is insidiously memorable.

Migrant Artists

“Migrations: Journeys in Modern British Art” at Tate
Britain (until Aug. 12) takes its mission too earnestly. It’s
dedicated to the proposition, undoubtedly an accurate one, that
British art, for the past 500 years at least, owes a great deal
to immigrants, passing visitors from abroad and the styles they
brought with them.

It’s easy to name the notable figures who came to Britain
and made wonderful works here: Van Dyck, Whistler, Sargent,
Mondrian, Schwitters and many others. There are some nice things
on display, mainly from the Tate’s own collection and some
loans. This is an opportunity to see, to cite a few examples,
good Van Dyck portraits, a fine Canaletto of Whitehall and a
splendid abstract by the Guyanese-born Frank Bowling.

Video Art

In the middle is a series of projection rooms containing
video art, the noise from which spills out distractingly into
the other galleries. The real trouble is that what’s on the
walls has no real artistic connection. This is an exhibition
illustrating a thesis that is sociological, not visual.

We wander from Renaissance to contemporary art, the only
common factor being that the makers, or in some cases their
parents, weren’t born on U.K. territory. The experience is about
as coherent as it would have been if the Tate had selected works
by artists over half a millennium whose surnames begin with
“F,” “S” and “P.”